Thoughts on a New Chapter

I've never been convinced of the arguments that children are born as blank slates (tabula rasa, for the latin speakers in my limited audience) which are then subsequently filled. I think that kids are born with predispositions and abilities which must be brought out of them. If you like, think of it this way: rather than being lumps of clay which can be made into anything, I prefer to think of them as hunks of marble--you don't make anything, you sculpt what is already there. You're not going to add anything to a stone to improve it, your limits are the raw material.

I don't have any particular reasons for this beyond my own theory crafting and my observations of the children in my life. One day soon (like in the next couple of weeks), I'll be testing my theory from as close as a person can test it--my first child is soon-to-be born.

I could talk more about my theories, but one thing has become abundantly clear as I've prepared myself for parenthood: there isn't really much preparation you can do.

Other than simply squaring yourself with the idea that you're going to be a parent, and that your life as you know it is about to change forever, there really isn't much you can do to prepare in that few months between the time you find out you will be a parent and the day you actually have a real child depending on you. I think that most of the work that is done on your parental philosophy is done through your own reflections on your parents and the parents you know, and by your beliefs about human nature and kids. Most of that stuff, at least at this point in my life, has already firmed up.

The one thing that would be most helpful, experience, is the one thing you can't get beforehand, no matter how many kids you watch. The reason is simple: the kids you watch aren't your kid. Sure, there are similarities...they all sleep, eat, make bad smells, fill diapers...but your kid is a unique constellation of attributes (borrowed that turn of phrase from a movie--it's not mine) that requires unique parenting acumen which no one but you can have. Every parent talks as though their parental strategies are the obvious ones, and they may be right--for their kid. But when it comes to your kid, you're pretty much on your own. This is the reason that parents make mistakes--the only way to find out what works for your kid is to try stuff until something works. That implies failure, at least some of the time. Hopefully, you don't fail so much that your kid is a wreck who can't function in society, but again, there are no guarantees.

Furthermore, there is no guarantee that you'll ever find something that will work for your kid. I've seen parents do everything I can think of to try and reach their kid, and some kids are just not built to be molded. Unfortunately, that rarely turns out well, and everyone ends up with lots of heartache and misery before the kid comes around--if they ever do.

In a few days, my child will be born. And I'm going to do my level best to take her raw material and help her put it to use while also hoping to sculpt her into a complete human being. How successful I will be remains to be seen. So yeah, I'm nervous. But I'm also excited. This should be an exciting adventure.

I'm simultaneously horrified and amused with parents who mean well and tell you as you wait for your child to be born that you should enjoy the present because your life will never be the same again. Parents who have told me that recently have given me all kinds of similar advice, but to hear them tell it you'd think I was never going to have fun again and that my life was about to be destroyed by a relational nuke. I can't buy that--if it were true, no one would ever become a parent in our times. Certainly things change, but that will happen anyways. I refuse to believe that this is a nightmare from which I will someday wake up. I know there are times when I'll be tired/upset/frustrated/worried. That goes without saying. But it simply can't possibly be as bad as these well-meaning people have described it. I'm prepared to believe that it is life-altering, but that isn't always bad. The adjustment phase might be hard, but I refuse to believe it isn't good. At the very least, the benefits have to at least balance out the negatives, or again, no one would ever willingly have children.

I know people who want nothing more to have children, but they are unable. I think it is borderline insulting to them to treat the kids you choose to have as a burden--I'm sure it is one they would willingly take on if they could, and to stand there and complain is an affront to their pain, whether they hear you say it or not. Children are a gift. I refuse to make them a curse, under any circumstances. I invite you to remind me of that if you hear me complain.

I say bring on the baby girl! Let's do this thing...for the rest of my life....